Twice Deceived
by AmethystB
Summary: Sequel to Deception, DevanWoody. If you had to lose your life to find someone you lost once, would you take the risk?
1. Ashes To Ashes

**A/N: **The very delayed sequel to _Deception _has arrived. Actually, it has been sitting comfortably in my computer for months of end, deliberating until I could get the story right. I changed the plot about three times until I was satisfied with it. I'm not going to explain much at this point because this chapter is just like a mourning moment for Woody, which by the way was so fun to write. I love cynical Woody. Much hotness. But I will say one thing: the beginning of this chapter is something that will occur halfway through this story. It's just something to keep you wondering until then.

**Disclaimer: **You really think I own it? Get out! All lyrics belong to "Never There (She Stabs)" by Strata. All rights reserved and nothing belongs to me! Except my plans, they're still safe inside my heart-shaped hand-grenade.

**Summary: **If you had to lose your life to find someone you lost once, would you take the risk?  
**Pairing: **Devan/Woody, with some Woody/Jordan.  
**Rating: **T - for violence, mild language, adult themes (always wanted to put that down...) and mild sexual references.

**Twice Deceived  
****Chapter One: Ashes To Ashes**

* * *

_He sucked in a breath. Why was she doing this? He couldn't understand why she would want to hurt him. A year had passed between them and all she had to do was point a gun at him? He swallowed hard, aware of the danger he would face if he pulled his own trigger. The man beside her was taunting him again, whispering to pull the trigger. He did. He saw the blood as the bullet met with the man's forehead and he crashed immediately to the ground, a pool of crimson liquid spilling out from behind him. _

_He lowered his gun. But she did not. She only stared at him with those wide, green eyes. Her mouth was open and her breathing was quick, erratic. Words were whispered in a dead voice…_

"_What did you do?"_

_He swallowed again, not sure what was happening but not caring. He took a step forward, and was suddenly stopped when her gun stiffened in her tight grip. Her knuckles were growing white; he could see her fingers tightening intensely. Her eyes never glazed over with regret when she pulled her finger back over the trigger._

_Pain ensued the tight blast and blood rushed immediately to the wound that gnashed the side of his head. His vision darkened and before he fell helplessly to the ground, he caught one final look at her. She still held the gun to him, her face ashen with regret._

* * *

_Ashes to ashes…_

I stared at my palm without conviction. The lines curved and some even met in indirect places but they were just lines in the end. Connections without any direction. The patterning on my hand hardly made any sense, just like everything else. Why did people have to die like that? Why couldn't God give them a second chance? It wasn't fair. Nothing was fair anymore.

Tears pricked my eyelids and I slammed my fist into the wall to stop them from falling. Pain bristled through my knuckles, into the tightly wound palm of my hand. My fingers tingled with a sense of feeling, but soon I felt the blood rise on my knuckles and everything went numb. I saw the blood but couldn't feel it trickle slowly down my bent fingers. I could only watch it. What good was seeing when you couldn't feel?

My left arm rested on the wall next to my bed, while I just stood there facing it, breathing in and out slowly. As I blew forcefully into the wall, the alcohol rebounded and I breathed it in with my nose. It still wasn't enough. Nothing was ever enough anymore. Not now that she's gone.

**I am on the brink of losing everything  
Hanging on the edge of every word she says  
And you were never there  
You were never there**

Garret had said she was free now, that she had her freedom. I was constricted. I almost couldn't breathe. What kept me balancing against the wall was the intriguing swaying effect alcohol seemed to have on me. I found it amusing, that such a thing could make someone like me fall into nothing. The dizziness had long faded and I seemed to long for it. To feel pain. To feel _something_. But I couldn't. All I could do was smile ridiculously as I kept my balance by leaning my arm against the wall.

I glanced my eyes towards the bed. It had been a few days since I had woken up alone to the thought that I was falling in love. I wasn't. I knew that now. She hadn't even said goodbye. Just left a note that held little substance for me now, when just a few days ago her handwriting was the centre of my life. The way she curved her letters when she signed her name made me smile with content, for a signature was as unique as a lock of natural hair.

**She stabs deep into me  
Am I too blind to see what this has done to me?  
She stabs deep into me  
Am I too numb to feel this anymore?**

…_dust to dust…_

She had me blinded, blissfully unaware of what lay beyond our lives. What lay beyond the love we made, or the way her lips twitched when we would share a personal joke. Only now do I see that so much more lay beyond any of that. The smell of a rose petal was more important than the scent of her perfume. The knowledge of the truth was more important than the intrigue of a deceitful lie. The insanity of death was more important than the sanity of life. They were realistic. They were all what lay beyond. And if we only took the time to realise other people mattered more than we did, maybe she would still be alive. Maybe she would still be in that bed, tangled in the sheets. Maybe she would still be here…with me.

But she wasn't, and she's not. She never will be.

**You were the one who could save me  
You were the one who abandoned me**

They had all gone to her memorial service. Fuck her precious memorial service. If she cared so much for the people she left behind, why wasn't she here? I _needed _her here. My secrets were locked in hers. My eyes were always reflected in hers. Her smile caused mine. She saved me when I was drowning. She breathed into me and gave me life.

I was drowning again…and she was the only one who could save me.

**I am patiently waiting here to see  
Which of us survives  
When all of this collides with reality**

Leaning forward, I gently rested my head against the cold wall. It stayed there while I closed over my eyes and took a silent breath. Could she really be gone? I didn't know. The more I thought about it the more I was convinced she would saunter through the door, her hands resting in her coat pockets and her expression searching for mine. I would smile and wait for her to walk over to me, like I always did. What would she say? I missed you? I'm sorry?

She'll never get the chance to.

**She stabs deep into me  
Am I too blind to see what this has done to me?  
She stabs deep into me  
Am I too numb to feel this anymore?**

I vaulted myself up from the wall, making myself walk the length of the room until I found the bathroom. Pulling open random drawers, I searched frantically for something I hadn't used in a long time. I opened up the last drawer and found it. Without a second's hesitation, I unscrewed the lid and tilted the small vile, causing a number of minute capsules to fall into the palm of my hand. I closed my fingers over the pills and walked with the vile over to the bedside table, where an empty glass lay. The scotch next to it seemed to call to me and I poured it into the glass, not caring when the liquid spilled over the rim and onto the table. I was frantic, needing release. Throwing my head back, I allowed the pills to slip down my throat, then threw the glass back as well. The alcohol burned as it slid, but I couldn't feel its searing flames. I was numb.

**You were never there**

She was when she wanted to be. But when I needed her there, she never was. I remember the relieved faces of the Moran family when I had brought them the woman's son. They embraced each other in a tight hug. I hadn't looked back until I felt a gnawing at the back of my throat. When I turned my head to look at the family, tears threatened to spill. I would never feel that security with Devan anymore. She was gone.

**You were never there**

She was gone.

…_ashes to ashes…_


	2. Can't Go Back

**A/N: **I know it's been a while since I posted this story but hopefully I still have some followers out there. Last chapter was in Woody's point of view and was all angsty because of Devan's death, but this one will be through the eye's of Devan, who isn't dead at all. Not yet, anyway.

I've been changing around this plot for a while now, just trying to find the right one, and this idea came from one of the directors of Crossing Jordan, who stated a while ago that they had plans to bring Devan back somehow. Won't spill it yet but read on to find out. Reviews are greatly appreciated!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Crossing Jordan. Never will.

* * *

**-And my words will be here  
****When I'm gone  
****As I'm fading away against the wind  
****And the words you left me linger on  
****As I'm falling again now  
****Never to change this- - "Sympathetic" - Seether**

* * *

I couldn't see anything. It was dark. Trying to will my eyes open didn't work so I lay in the darkness and listened. I tried not to think about the stabbing pain in my neck and instead focussed on trying to identify with my surroundings. I was laying on something stiff, something that felt like a hardened mattress. My hands were tied, extremely tightly, around my back and I wriggled as best I could to free them. However, everything was in vain. I realised suddenly that there was something covering my eyes to obscure my vision. My breathing increased and I could hear every painful exhale loudly. My heart beat faster then, and I struggled harder to free my hands from the grip of the taut cloth.

A door opened, its piercing echo screamed into my ears and made my hair stand on end, sending rippling shivers up and down my spine. I lay motionless, though I knew whoever it was stepping into the room was aware of my consciousness. It didn't take long for the shadowed figure to press the tip of a metal pistol to my neck and whisper to me to keep still. I did. It was a man, and I knew who he was.

The cloth around my eyes was viciously swiped from my face, and with a sharp gasp, I opened my eyes. At first all I could see was darkness, then my irises quickly adjusted to the light of a small bedside lamp. My sight was immediately met with the hollow barrel of the gun, then I shifted my gaze to look him over. He was still wearing the same cooperate suit he had donned when we had met earlier. Except he looked deadly serious this time, all of his warnings had expired. He was slouching over the bed but he was still tall, and his dark hair glinted in the pale light. Those deep blue eyes still probed mine, dangerously.

"Who's Woody?" he smiled coldly with dry amusement and my head snapped up to look at him with a frown.

"Excuse me?" I asked dully with a dry throat.

His lips twisted into a sour grin. "You talk in your sleep. I swear on my brother's life I've told you that before."

My heart skipped a beat when I realised I was supposed to be in Boston. "Where am I?"

"_We_," he replied instantly with an amused look, "are in Washington. You remember, don't you?"

I knew by his tone that he was mocking me, taunting me. I had heard this all before and knew how to play the game. "Absolutely. That's why I'm asking you these questions. What did you do?"

He sucked in a long, teasing breath before sitting down on the bed beside me. "It's just a little game. You don't pay me and I'll play you."

He leaned over and flashed his teeth. They shined stainless white. I shivered and allowed my head to fall backwards against the covered pillow. The room was not the same hotel I had checked into not long ago, though I couldn't remember anything beyond my phone call to Jordan…whenever that had been. I still had no idea what was going on but it was strange because I didn't really care. Dealing with him was always dealing with money, so I figured I could get out of it quite easily. Then I remembered why I had come to Washington in the first place.

"Where is he?" I asked fretfully, my senses finally awakening.

He tilted his head mockingly, twisting his lips. "Who?"

I glared dangerously. "Don't do that to me. You know who I'm talking about."

He stood suddenly and leaned over me, bending down and tugging at the cloth around my hands. It was so tightly wrapped that I could feel my circulation cutting off. My restraints were released suddenly and I gave him a brief look of appreciation before struggling into a sitting position. Pain flowed easily through my head and I made no attempt to stop it. I suddenly felt like crying and was disturbed by it because I didn't know why I was so emotional.

"Devan," he began quite gently, which confused me, "you died."

I stared at him, dumbfounded. Confusion was not the correct word. Disbelief was. "But…I'm here. Unless I went to Hell. Is this Hell, because it feels like it."

I moved my head back suddenly when he pushed the gun into my face, his features taut. "It's not funny so don't pretend it is. This was the only way I could stop you. Stop them."

I shook my head, sighing and attempting to stand but he pushed me back onto the bed. "Look, I don't know what you're talking about…"

"There was a plane crash a week ago," he interrupted me. "You died in it."

My head snapped up and the pain immediately rushed to the crook of my neck, but I ignored it. "What?"

He looked at me with those dangerous blue eyes. "You don't exist anymore. The plane crashed in Boston last week."

I stared at him with wide eyes, shocked and chilled to the bone. They thought I was dead? That plane had crashed? I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Why did you do this?"

I heard the unmistakable click of the safety being capped off on the gun. "Don't act like you don't know."

I was trying not to let on but he knew me too well. He knew what I was like when I lied, when I kept things hidden, when I deceived people. He knew the signs. He gave me a few moments of peace to absorb everything, but nothing seemed to seep in. I was dead to them now. Dead to _him_. Was he grieving? Had he moved on? All I could think about was what this was doing to him. Woody.

My eyes flicked to his quickly then I lowered them to the ground. "So what do you want?"

He raised his eyebrows at my whisper and his mocking voice returned. "Fifty million dollars.

Cash, preferably. And you're silence, but I guess it's too late for that."

I stared incredulously at him, my nerves rising within me. "What?"

"I'm out of a job, Devan," he said quickly, though painfully. "I have nothing left. I need your support with this."

"_This?_" I raised my voice. "You refer to him as _this_?"

His eyes softened, something that rarely happened. "It's hard, and you would have no idea because you left a year ago. You haven't seen him in over twelve months."

I shook my head. "If you weren't so adamant about us marrying then maybe I would be around more often."

"Fifty million dollars," he dismissed. "Take it or leave it, it's up to you."

"And if I leave it?"

He grinned then, a sinister twitch of his lips. "If you decline this offer, you will never look at yourself in the mirror again. More importantly, you'll never see _Woody_ again. By the sounds of your dreams, you two were quite close."

"That's none of your business," I replied coolly, my head once again resting against the wooden headboard.

He sat down on the bed and reached out a hand to me but I slapped it away. "Devan, when it comes to you, it's always my business."

I swallowed when I found myself facing the end of the gun again, it's circular hole reflecting in the light. He held his finger to the trigger and I wondered what the pain would be like if he squeezed it. I decided not to find out.

"Fine," I said through gritted teeth. "I'll do what you want."

He never moved the gun from my face but I watched the movement when his finger was pulled backwards and the trigger squeezed. Nothing came out but a hollow click. It had been empty.

* * *

**A/N: **Ooh, tense.

Peace out


End file.
